


Painting Chicago Skyline

by Takada_Saiko



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Domestic Keens, F/M, Keen2 fluff, S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: It had been Liz's idea to repaint the dining room, but seven on a Saturday morning had seemed much more reasonable with the expectation of a good night’s sleep beforehand.





	Painting Chicago Skyline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/gifts).



> Written for the Blacklist Hiatus Exchange for prompt #7: liz/tom - season 1 domestic throwback fic  
> Hope you like it :D

Somehow the alarm had seemed more obnoxious that morning than it usually did. Maybe it was the fact that it was screaming at seven on a Saturday morning or that she hadn't even gotten home, much less to sleep, until sometime after midnight. Tom had already been asleep, barely stirring as she had crawled in bed with him, their plans for the next morning not even crossing her mind at that late hour. 

The beeping seemed to go on forever, and Liz was certain that she had  _ just _ closed her eyes when it started. It wailed in that pattern that just got louder and louder until someone switched it of. Finally it stopped and she waited to see if it would start again. Or worse, that Tom would throw open the curtains and remind her that there was a perfectly valid reason that the alarm had been blaring first thing on a Saturday morning. 

It had been her idea to repaint the dining room to try to find a way to move past Ranko Zamani breaking into their home and nearly killing her husband and everything that had followed. Every time she walked into the dining room memories assaulted her. She could almost see Zamani leaning over him, the knife in hand, or feel the brush in her hand as she scrubbed desperately at the carpet to try to clean Tom’s blood off of it only to find that damned box hidden away. She couldn’t eat at the table without thinking of them screaming at each other over it and the accusations flying in both directions. She’d doubted him and she hated that. She wanted to leave it behind, and Tom hadn’t been overly receptive to the idea of moving to get away from it, so redecorating seemed like the best compromise to move forward. That compromise had seemed much more reasonable with the expectation of a good night’s sleep prior to jumping into the repainting job.

Liz groaned as she felt Tom lean over her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and she heard him laugh softly at her, completely unfazed by her early morning grumbles. He didn't say anything, but she felt him get up from his side of the bed and she waited for him to come back when he realized she wasn't following willingly. She should. She knew she should. This hadn't been his idea, but once he had realized she was serious about it, he'd moved all the furniture, set up all the protective plastic to keep the paint off their floor and counters, and had even gone to go get the paint. She really should open her eyes and get up. It was time to participate in this.

Slowly she forced her eyes open again and found that Tom had already left the room. She turned, blinking at the clock that read 8:45. She'd fallen back asleep and he'd let her. 

Liz tossed the covers back and rolled out of bed, giving herself no time to change her mind as her bare feet hit the cool floorboards of the room. She shivered, grabbed a sweater, and started down the stairs. 

The sun was shining through the windows, washing the entire townhouse in natural light. The smell of paint hit her the further down the stairs she crept, and it was mixed with the vaguest hints of coffee. She always knew she'd married a smart man. 

Liz found Hudson stretched out in front of the plastic that covered the main entrance into the dining room, looking very put out that he wasn't allowed in to “help” with the painting. She smiled at him and reached down to give him a good scratch behind the ears before slipping through the makeshift door and into the dining room. 

Tom turned as the plastic barrier crinkled as she entered and he offered her a bright smile. “Mornin’, babe. There's coffee still left in the pot if you want some.”

“Need may be closer,” she mumbled, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Are we doing this too?”

“Picked up too much paint and I figured it'd look better anyway,” he answered from the other room. 

“You weren't supposed to start without me,” she called over her shoulder, pouring the strong coffee into a mug and moving back into the dining room. 

“Trust me, there's plenty to do,” he said with a grin and she rolled her eyes as she padded across the plastic covering their floor and surveyed his handiwork.

“If you ever get tired of teaching, I think we may have found your second calling. This looks really good.”

“I like teaching,” he answered, stepping back and survey with her. “But you're right. It's not half bad.”

Liz rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove to the shoulder, making a face when her hand came back smudged with the paint he had been using. Her gaze swept up and down, finding splotches of the grey paint all over his old t-shirt and gym shorts he wore for the project. “What?” he asked, finally noticing she was looking at him. 

“You know the paint is supposed to go on the walls, right?” 

“Is it?” he asked curiously and she almost saw to flash of mischief in his eyes too late. 

Liz tried to dodge the paintbrush as he took a swipe at her, but it caught her shoulder, leaving some of the dark paint behind and she glared at her grinning husband. “At least let me change into grungy clothes first. I like this shirt.”

Somehow that only made him smile more. “You know it's mine, right? I can pick a new one up at the next teaching conference that actually fits you.”

“I don't want a new one. I like this one,” she answered stubbornly, looking down at the green t-shirt she'd swiped from him. She'd always liked it, but she had all but made claims on it while he'd been in the hospital after Zamani had stabbed him and she hadn't been too eager to give it back after. It was something she had held onto, like a thread to remind her of the man she loved even as she questioned everything that surrounded them. It might be silly, but there was sentimental value to it. 

“Okay,” Tom answered quietly, seeming to catch on that she wasn't just teasing him. “Sorry I got paint on it.”

“It's okay.” A tiny smile perked her lips as she tipped up on her toes, surprising him with a kiss. He wasn't one to argue with it as one of her hands snaked around to the back of his neck, pulling him down a little closer, a little deeper into it and he didn't even seem to notice as she took the paintbrush from his hands, his fingers so loose around it that he might have dropped it at any moment. Once his right hand was free it settled on the side of her face, long fingers teasing at her hair. When they broke she saw his eyes drift open reluctantly. “But turnabout's fair play,” she murmured, still a little breathless from the kiss. 

Tom’s expression shifted to confusion and then to understanding as she lifted the paintbrush she had swiped and dabbed it against his nose, careful to avoid his glasses, and her grin spread wide. A laugh escaped her as he went a little cross eyed trying to look at it. “That's fair,” he mumbled, reaching up and wiping at it. 

Her smile didn't fade as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him again. “You know you're getting paint all over you, right?” he mumbled. 

“Don't care.”

She felt him smile into the kiss and finally pull back. “And we've got this room and the kitchen to paint.”

“Oh.  Were you wanting help with that?” she teased and Tom grinned good naturedly. 

“It  _ was _ your idea.”

Liz hummed noncommittally and moved to grab a roller from the pan, glancing back to see the smile hadn't faded from Tom’s face and she sighed happily. With everything that had happened, all the chaos they found at their door, and all the secrets she had to keep from him these days, this was nice. Better than nice. This was home. 


End file.
